IV Spark
by Lizardphobia
Summary: "My breath caught and my heart skipped a beat." Jason and Kim friendship, and the beginning to so much more. Fourth instalment in the same universe as the previous three, and labelled accordingly.
1. Chapter 1

**_Kimberly_**

"C'mon, Hart!" Coach Schmidt hollered. "Back straight, chest out. Your posture's slipping!"

I grimaced and did as I was told, straightening further on the balance beam. My ankle protested, but I ignored it.

I completed my routine, landing on my feet with arms in the air and my chin held high. And that's when I really felt it - the tell-tale pull in the back of my foot, a sure sign that I had strained something.

Coach was spouting off a litany of instructions, critiquing my technique and correcting my hand and foot placements. He eyed me beadily as I tried my best not to hobble over to where he stood. "Something wrong, Kim?"

I shook my head and gave him my best "I'm Just Peachy" smile. "Go on," I told him, intent on hearing his evaluation of my performance.

"-and you'll have a really good shot at the Olympics," he finished.

 _The Olympics._ My heart leapt at the sound. "You really think so?" I asked him eagerly.

He nodded an affirmative. "Keep this up, win the Pan Globals, and then it's a straight shot to the qualifying rounds at the 'O's."

It was my dream. Had been ever since I discovered gymnastics. "Yes, Coach."

He gave me a rare smile. "But first, you need to win the Globals." With a pat on my back he turned to another of my team mates, effectively dismissing me for the day.

I walked slowly back to the nearby dormitories housed in the same swish compound that was the athletic facility in Florida.

I opened the door to my room and put down my gear, heading to the bathroom to set up a hot bath. As I waited for the water to fill, I sat down on the closed lid of the toilet, carefully inspecting the back of my foot. It didn't look bad, in fact there was barely any swelling and redness. I prodded at it gently, then with more force, wincing at the latter. _Crap._

Lowering myself into the steaming water, I tried to force troubling thoughts from my mind. The phone rang as I had nearly drifted off to sleep in the bath, and I felt around for the extension in the bathroom.

"Hey, Beautiful."

"Tommy!" I sat up, instantly awake.

He laughed, and I missed the sound. It had been too long, too long since I had last heard from him. "It's been so long since I heard your voice," I told him wistfully.

"Yeah, I know. Things've just been crazy around here, ya know. But, I got all your letters! I haven't really got the time to write back, sorry about that. Just... Y'know, crazy. Phew."

"I heard about your major crisis."

"Yeah! Billy told you huh?"

It was Aisha, actually, but I didn't tell him. "Billy mentioned something. I'm so glad you're okay, and you managed to get those crystals."

I had tried reaching Billy after Aisha informed me from Africa of the situation. But Billy had his hands full, and I feared that any extra second he spent on me would affect the Rangers' chances of success. Only Jason, Trini and Zack knew just how worried I had been about Tommy.

"Me too. They're a lot more powerful than our old powers." He went off in his own thoughts for a minute, _drum drum_ drumming his fingers on something and I waited patiently for him to return. "Anyways, how've you been?" he asked, pulling himself back to me.

"Oh, you know, the usual. Tired. Training everyday... and all that." I debated going into detail, but decided against adding more to his plate. I reached for a towel and raised my ankle, rotating it slowly and quietly asked him about home.

He laughed, recalling a few funny stories about Rocky and Adam. Hinted at more between Adam and Tanya, which I perked up nosily at. I wanted to know all about Tanya, but Tommy, never the best with words or descriptions, came up with the über informative, "Uh, she's okay I guess."

I rolled my eyes, demanding to know _more_. He laughed again, swearing that was all there was to it, and "Oh yeah, she likes to wear yellow."

I gave up.

The conversation approached a lull, and I asked him more about the Rangers. He jumped straight in with details, giving blow-by-blow accounts of their last three battles, but even though I tried, my retired brain, already fried from over-training, too little sleep, and that ever present niggling doubt about the health of my ankle, found it difficult to get into.

He mentioned Jason, Trini and Zack, and I smiled, more than happy to talk about our old friends. He was glad to hear that they were doing great, and I was proud of their accomplishments, especially Jason's for he had been chosen as lead delegate at an upcoming summit. Which was hardly a surprise, but "You should really call him sometime. Or write him-, them, at least," I told my boyfriend.

I asked about Katherine, concerned and curious to know how she was handling the responsibilities I passed on to her.

She was settling in great, according to Tommy. The team loved her, and she got along well with everyone, especially Tanya.

I nodded absently, massaging the back of my foot. My fingers squeezed a particular spot and I exhaled sharply as a stinging pain shot up the entire back of my calf.

"-a little like Zack you know, with the dance moves, but less hip hop and more ballet instead."

I looked up from my ministrations. "Who? Katherine?" I asked.

"Yeah, Kat," he answered with a laugh. "I was just describing her fighting style." He paused, as if musing over something. "She's improving by the way, learns quick too," he said, sounding pleased, "I've been giving her pointers as to how to turn those -what does she call 'em- 'pliés' or 'jetés' or something, into a proper roundhouse kick."

I nodded again, then realized that he couldn't exactly see me. I started to say something, to ask about him, how he was doing, with school and classes and everything, but a series of familiar beeps sounded over the line. "Looks like you've got to go," I said lightly.

"Uh-huh," he replied, already distracted. I could hear him swivelling restlessly around and looking for the others. "Look, Kim, I uh-"

"It's okay, I know. Just... Tommy?"

"Yeah?"

"Take care, okay?"

"Sure thing. We'll talk again, Kim." He hung up, and I replaced the phone on the hook.

Pulling the plug to drain the bath water, I stepped out of the tub and winced at the pressure that put on my foot.

 _Crap crap crap._

* * *

"May I be connected to room 1403, please?" I spoke into the line later that same day.

"Yes certainly, Madam," came the reply in a thick German accent.

A few seconds passed, and then a click. "Hello?" a deep, smooth voice answered.

"Jase?"

"Hey, you caught me just in time. I was about to leave to join the group downstairs."

"Oh, sorry, I'll call back tonight? It'll be, uh, late afternoon for you," I said, mentally calculating the time difference.

"No, don't worry about it. What's up?"

I hesitated. "It's, uh, probably nothing, but... My ankle."

I could hear the bed springs creak as he sat down. "The same spot?" he asked.

"Yeah," I whispered.

"Did you ice it and lay off it like I told you to?"

I kept silent, biting the inside of my cheek. From what I figured, if I stayed quiet I wouldn't have to lie now, would I?

"Kimberly."

It was all he said, but then again, he never needed many words to get results.

"Fineeeeee," I capitulated, throwing myself back on my bed. "I iced it, and I had _planned_ on resting it, but it got better when I woke up this morning so I went for practice anyway." I cringed, somehow admitting to the stupidity of my actions seemed a whole lot worse. I tripped over my next few words in my rush to get them out. "But Coach said I had a good shot at the 'O's, Jase. _The 'O's_."

I didn't know why it was so important to me that he understood why I did what I did, but it just was.

"Okay. Describe it to me again. How does it hurt this time?" he asked calmly, no censure in his voice at all.

I felt a deep rush of appreciation for him. "When I'm on my toes."

"Can you walk on your heels?"

I got up and attempted a few steps. "Yeah, it doesn't hurt that way."

"But it hurts when you take straight steps?"

"Yes, but not so bad that I can't walk at all."

There was a short silence and I fancied I could hear him thinking. "Kim, it's your Achilles' tendon. It's probably an inflammation of sorts, which isn't bad _now_ , if you keep off it."

"But?"

He sighed. " _But_ if you continue to press it, which I'm certain you will, it will rupture, and that will ruin your chances at the Olympics for sure." He paused again, as if weighing his next words. "I know you don't want to hear it, but you should go see a physiotherapist, or at least a doctor."

"No," I stated firmly. There was no way I wanted Coach Schmidt to think I was bringing anything less than my A-game. And besides, I didn't want to risk failing a drug test because of this.

He made no comment, but I knew he was against it. "Okay, Kim," he finally said. "But promise me you'll take it easy, please."

"I know."

"Ice it," he instructed, "and wrap it up when you're on your feet. It should provide some form of support and relief from the pain."

I nodded, my trust in him absolute. "Okay, Jase."

He blew out a heavy breath. "I really wish you would go see a physio."

"I know you do. And I know you wish you could teleport here too," I teased lightly.

He snorted down the line. "Don't I," he muttered.

"I'll be fine. In fact, I'm feeling a lot better than I was earlier." I twirled the telephone cord between my fingers. "Thanks, Jason," I said quietly, sincerely.

"Anytime." I heard several loud knocks on his room door and someone hollered his name.

"Looks like you're wanted. Sorry to keep you."

"Don't be silly. I'm always here for you."

I laughed, appreciating the statement. "Good luck. And let me know how it goes," I told him.

We said our goodbyes and I hung up the phone quickly, not wanting him to be late.

He had been working very hard to prepare for this summit, and was handpicked out of the hundreds at the conference in Switzerland to lead a select group of ten at the inaugural Peace Summit in Germany, where he currently was. He was also going to be the opening as well as key speaker there, and I had been helping with both of his speeches. Helping to the best I could, which mostly consisted of listening in on speaker while he was practicing, usually together with Trini and Zack, which was always a great lot of fun even with the miles between us.

Florida was lonely, and homesickness was a terrible thing. Sometimes I found it difficult to sleep at night, because I missed home so much and I was miserable, and my hand would hover over the phone, and before I knew it I would dial his number; because he was strong and because he was always there and because he had always been my constant.

I crossed my fingers and squeezed my eyes shut, wishing him all the very best.

It was a practice I had fallen into during our days as Rangers, starting with that one time that he had vanished off grid and no one could find him. I had worried myself sick, and when someone, probably Billy or Alpha, had suggested we cross our fingers and hope he'll show up, I had taken those words literally and done so. It worked, and Jason miraculously appeared less than five seconds later.

It was a silly, maybe even superstitious, little ritual of mine, and no one knew about it. But it stuck, this little Jason Charm, and I've taken it on as a good luck charm ever since.

The strange thing was, I've never used it for anyone or anything else, it was just for Jason.


	2. Chapter 2 - The Pan Globals

I laid off the foot for two days - it was the most I could do, and despite the odd twinge here and there, I had gotten very good at knowing where to place my weight so that it wouldn't flare up too much.

I heard from Trini and Zack - they were bummed they hadn't been part of the team to Germany, but happy for Jason.

I spoke to Jason, and was very proud when he said he had accomplished what he had set out to do at the summit, and was personally invited to stay on in Germany, where they wanted him to act as primary representative and continue on to three other major cities in the country.

It was harder to reach Tommy on the phone, so I continued to write him, sketching details of my life in Florida, Coach Schmidt, my teammates, my fiercest competitors, and my gruelling schedule.

Billy wrote back, he was the best at correspondence, and his lengthy letters kept my homesick heart full with stories about Ernie, humorous ones about the latest exploits of Bulk and Skull, and stuff about their team missions that he thought I would find interesting.

I watched reports with coverage on the Power Rangers, and found that the Pink Ranger's fighting techniques had definitely taken on a style similar to my boyfriend's, albeit with more of the soft grace of her ballet background, as opposed to the hyper, flashy bursts that was Tommy's signature.

The days usually kept me too busy from missing my days as a Ranger, for my training schedule was tough and I would wake up with gymnastics on the brain and fall into bed at night exhausted from pushing my body to the limits.

The Games arrived, but without the fanfare I had been expecting. The crash and boom that surely I had built up in my head surrounding the bright red circle I had marked around the date on my calendar.

I woke up in the morning, waiting to feel some sort of rush, the kind of energy I had been used to feeling before going into battle, or when faced with one of the putties or a Tengu warrior, but none came.

I arrived at the competition venue, and the sights and sounds were overwhelming. Cheers erupted from the stands surrounding the central mat where we would compete, and the row of judges sitting to the side were intimidating.

Blocking it all out, I focused on the figure of Coach Schmidt standing with a couple of my other teammates. Teammates who had, over the course of the past weeks, turned into competitors.

We exchanged friendly grins and how-are-you's, but underneath it all, was a grim recognition that only one of us would emerge winner.

"Right, guys," called Coach, "this is it everyone. Get your head in the game and block out all else. Got it?"

We nodded in unison.

He lifted his chin at the families and supporters of my fellow three gymnasts and stuck a thumb in their direction. "Now go get your good luck kisses and wishes."

I stayed behind, dumping my gear on the bench reserved for contestants and dropped into a warm-up routine.

Coach frowned at me slightly. "Kim?" he asked questioningly, looking around and to the stands.

I looked up and gave him a tiny smile, shaking my head.

His frown deepened. "Not one?"

I shook my head again. My mom was pregnant, and there was no way any airline would let her travel this late in her pregnancy.

The Rangers have far bigger responsibilities on their plate, and Tommy, well, Tommy was their leader.

I told Trini, Zack and Jason to save the airfare and watch the coverage on TV instead. Though right now, I really, really wished I hadn't. I missed them all so much, and it would have meant so much to have them cheering me on in the stands right now.

I looked out to the wide expanse of blue mat smack in the middle of the hall.

It was big, it was blue and it was empty. It looked terrifying.

I swallowed.

"Er, Coach Schmidt? I think I really need to make a phone call."

He nodded his head understandingly. "Be back here in twenty minutes."

I took off like a rocket, jangling a purse full of change I kept for this express purpose. Out of the competition hall, the sudden silence of the long corridor seemed comforting. I hurried down it, and located the pay phones, jerkily punching out a direct call to a number I could recite backwards in my sleep.

It rang.

And rang. And rang.

"Pick up, pick up. Pick uppppppp..."

The dial tone went flat. Disappointed beyond belief, I stared blankly at the phone in my hand.

After several deep breaths, I replaced the phone on the cradle. Pushing my hair out of my face, I pulled out a piece of paper from the purse of change, flattening it out and dialled the number scribbled on that instead.

Trini answered after a couple of rings. "Kim?" she said in surprise, "Why're you calling me now? Aren't you supposed to be in a competition?"

"I know!" I wailed. "But I'm a huge basket of nerves and there's no one I love around!" I flailed my arm up helplessly, so miserable I could hardly stand it.

"Huh?" said Trini, sounding puzzled. "Isn't Jaso-"

Before she could finish, the phone was plucked out of my hand and a voice behind me said, "Boo."

I let out an un-ranger-like screech and spun around, arms crossed in a defensive stance, ready to pound the creep into pulp.

"Looks like I taught you well," Jason said approvingly.

"Jason!"

I dropped my stance, nearly giddy with happiness and took a flying leap into his arms. "Oh my gosh oh my gosh oh my gosh! I can't believe you're here! You're actually _here_!"

He laughed, rich and low, and I gave him an extra squeeze for good measure. "I tried calling you, but you didn't pick up!"

"Now you know why."

I heard Trini laughing faintly from the phone still in Jason's hand. She said something and Jason handed the phone to me.

I snatched it up, dancing away from him. "He's here! He's here!"

Trini laughed. "Yeah, we're so sorry we couldn't all come. But they could only sacrifice one of us from the US team, and Jason called it."

I turned towards Jason and gave him a big smile. "Thanks for knowing me so well," I told Trini, but my eyes were on Jason, so he would know that I meant it for him as well.

"No problem, Kim," Trini said, "Now do us all proud and go kick some butt!"

I hung up with a big smile. God I love my friends. And I missed them so much.

My smile was still in place as I turned to find Jason watching me. I returned his look with a fond one of my own, then reached out suddenly to smack him in the stomach. "I thought I told you not to come!"

He chuckled and rubbed the spot. "Yeah, sure you did. But you'd have killed me if I really didn't."

I hid a smile and he touched my elbow, ushering me back to the competition hall. "C'mon, you've a competition to win."

* * *

The noise as we entered the event hall was nothing short of deafening, and the place was filled with adrenaline. This time though, I felt charged from the atmosphere, a complete difference from earlier when everything overwhelmed me.

I groped around blindly for Jason's hand, my eyes unable to leave the rows and rows of cheering people surrounding me. A sudden warmth engulfed my hand as he folded his fingers around mine. He gave them a squeeze and warmth radiated up my arm and settled around my heart. I took a deep breath, comforted by his steady presence.

Coach Schmidt smiled as he saw me return with Jason in tow. "Ah, this must be the famous boyfriend." He stuck his hand out for Jason to shake. "Tommy?"

Jason let out a soft chuckle. "Not quite," he said, grasping Coach Schmidt's hand, "Jason Scott, the best friend. Or one of them, anyway." He turned to me with a wink.

I beamed at him, proud to show him off. "He's the one at the World Peace Conference in Switzerland."

Coach Schmidt nodded. "Fine thing to be doing, young man. And I'm really glad that you showed up for Kim today." He reached into a bag and retrieved a spare pass that he indicated Jason should wear around his neck, explaining that it would give him access to the contestants' holding area. Then he tapped his watch and shooed the both of us off, and assured us that he would be along in a bit.

The holding area was massive, but grouped neatly into little areas, with each area sectioned off with tall plants so that we could each have some form of privacy. An usher led the both of us to a section with "K. Hart" labelled on each of the four chairs.

Jason dropped my duffel on the floor as I bent into light stretches that started off my warm-up routine. He took a chair, quietly observing as I sank into side splits and then into front splits.

I could hear the cheers from the spectators outside as the first contestant took his place on the mat. They were doing males first, and then females, so it would be some time before it got to my turn to perform.

"You good?" he asked, with a keen eye on the ankle that I was trying hard not to favor.

I pulled a face. It figured that he would be the only one to notice. He knew me, _us_ , even better than we did ourselves. We were his, and he was ours, and he guarded us all with his life.

He knew us; and not just because we counted on him to pick up the slack whenever we couldn't. For him, more than anything, it was to best protect us, for he carried the weight of keeping us all alive on his shoulders alone.

He raised an eyebrow and indicated my right ankle. "That's the one that's giving you trouble isn't it?"

"Yeah," I answered, rising from the ground and taking a chair. "But I've sort of learnt to manage it. It doesn't hurt or give me any trouble when I do my routine in a certain way." I accepted the bottle of water that he offered me and took a sip.

He sank to a knee on the floor before me. Reaching for my right foot, he gently placed it on his thigh, pressing on the toes and helping me to stretch the heel.

There was an instant relief from the pressure that I had been trying to alleviate earlier and I gave him a grateful smile.

"You brought any bandages or wraps?" he asked, with a quick glance up at me from under those dark brows.

I nodded. "Yeah, in my duffle."

He reached for the side pocket and looked surprised as his fingers immediately closed over what he had been looking for.

I grinned and shrugged. "I pack my bag the same way you do yours."

He shook his head in amusement and I caught a glimpse of a smile on his face as he looked back down at my foot.

Somehow I found myself mesmerized by his hands as he carefully wrapped up my ankle.

They weren't the prettiest hands, far from it, they were callused and rough, with a lot more than a few scars on them. They crisscrossed his knuckles, some silver with age, some thin and raised, and all from the times he had counted on them to win a fight. To save the world.

They were strong, broad hands, capable of so much force, and yet so gentle now with me.

There was a sudden charge in the air between, a crackle. An odd feeling surged through me. An unfamiliar one where Jason was concerned, and it left me feeling confused, breathless, and disoriented.

"All done," he said softly, and placed my foot back on the ground.

The motion startled me and I blinked, flustered and unsettled. I was relieved when I looked into his dark, dark eyes and felt the familiar rush of warmth that I had come to associate with him. I held his gaze for a moment too long, my emotions a mix of old and a startling new. But here he was, solid and real, and I was so glad to finally see him again, in the flesh, after months and months of being comforted by just his voice through the phone.

"Thank you," I murmured, still unable to look away.

He smiled his Jason smile, the one that made his eyes crinkle and his dimples show. "Anytime, Kim," he said, giving my bare knee a short squeeze as he stood.

My breath caught and my heart skipped a beat.

The lingering warmth of his touch stayed until I heard my name being called. I stood up, wiping sweaty palms on my leotard, suddenly nervous.

"Morphin' time, Kim," Jason said, for my ears alone.

I caught a glint in his eyes and a sharp rush of adrenaline filled me. I've not heard those words from him in more than a year. And I could not have anticipated how much of an impact it made hearing them from him again now.

I was going to win. I could feel it. I could do anything with Jason here beside me. I stood up and walked confidently to the main hall.

It was time for me to perform.

 _-fin-_


End file.
